CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The moment I stepped out of the car, a man built like a brick house approached me. His eyes were also concealed behind a pair of sunglasses. Did Mateo's men have some kind of uniform code to abide by?

"Good evening, Miss Castello," he greeted me respectfully, his accent similar to Mateo's. "Please, follow me."

I nodded, taking a deep breath as I followed him into the restaurant. We bypassed the sign where patrons were checking in, moving effortlessly past people dining, all exuding wealth and sophistication. I didn't allow myself to meet anyone's eye. I was certain there were at least one or two diners that would recognize me. Instead, I focused on the interior of the restaurant. Loathe as I was to admit, the place was stunning.

The ambiance was a perfect blend of elegance and warmth, with wicker pendant lights casting a soft, golden glow .

Each table was adorned with fresh flowers and pristine linens. The soft hum of conversation mixed with the clinking of fine China and crystal glasses. Servers in crisp uniforms moved gracefully between tables, attending to guests with the utmost care.

My guide led me right through all of it. We ascended the stairs and moved through a set of glass doors, emerging onto a breathtaking rooftop bar and dining area. The cityscape glittered below, a sea of lights stretching into the night. Despite the opulence, the rooftop was empty, save for one figure—Mateo.

Even from behind, he exuded an unnerving degree of power, his presence commanding and almost palpable. His broad shoulders and confident stance made it clear he was a man accustomed to control.

I couldn't deny how attractive I found him, a magnetic pull that was both thrilling and terrifying. Peyton’s last warning echoed in my head, and I almost laughed. He stood near the edge, looking out over the city, but turned as we approached. The man who had escorted me gave a slight nod and stepped back, leaving me to face Mateo alone. As his eyes roamed over me, I suddenly felt ridiculous, like a child playing dress-up. But his heated gaze told a different story—one where he didn’t share my doubts.

Mateo began to approach, his steps measured. "You look beautiful. You are beautiful," he corrected.

I swallowed hard and peeked over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of a bartender that had previously gone unnoticed. So, he wasn't completely alone after all, but there was no guard in sight. My eyes drifted back to Mateo as he reached out and traced a finger from my jawline down to my chin.

"It's not wise to look at anyone else when I'm standing right in front of you. "

I took a deep breath and caught a whiff of his cologne - a captivating blend of spice and warmth. "You do realize that's a woman, right?"

His gaze darkened. "Possession knows no gender, Elena."

Sensing the conversation veering off course already, I decided to change the subject. "This rooftop is beautiful," I commented, gesturing around us.

He placed his hand on the small of my back, sending shivers through me as he led me towards a central table. "It's one of my favorite spots."

Looking up at him, I asked, "Do you own this restaurant?"

"I own this entire city," he replied with a grin, pulling out my chair for me. I couldn't hide my surprise, and he chuckled. "Don't act so shocked. A gentleman should always treat a lady with respect."

"Of course," I replied with a hint of sarcasm lacing my tone .

He rounded the table and sat across from me, sliding his phone away after tapping out a quick text. Without a word, the bartender approached with his drink of choice and a margarita for me, made exactly the way I liked it.

I gave Mateo a questioning look. "How did you know?"

"You ordered this the other night," he said simply.

"The club. That's yours too," I deduced.

"Among other things," he replied, his eyes locking onto mine, making it clear just how extensive his reach was. I reached for my glass and took a sip, the hints of Patrón in the strawberry mix already helping to soothe my nerves. The door I came through opened, and servers appeared carrying an array of dishes, plating them on the table with practiced precision.

"A medium-rare Wagyu steak with truffle butter," one server announced, setting the plate before me.

"An heirloom tomato and burrata salad," another added, placing the vibrant dish to the side.

"And for condiments, we have béarnaise sauce, black garlic aioli, and aged balsamic reduction," a third server listed, arranging the small, elegant bowls within easy reach.

I glanced at the spread, feeling both overwhelmed and impressed. Mateo watched me with an amused glint in his eye, clearly enjoying my reaction.

"This is... extravagant," I managed to say, trying to keep my composure.

"Consider it a very small taste of what this life has to offer," Mateo replied smoothly.

As the servers finished their meticulous setup and retreated, I looked back at Mateo, my curiosity piqued even further .

There was no denying his power and influence, but the question of his true intentions lingered in my mind. I waited until the servers were gone before speaking. "Are you going to tell me why this was necessary?"

"Do I need to feed you again?" he deflected, his tone teasing yet laced with a hint of command.

I swallowed, remembering the last time he had insisted on feeding me. "No, I can manage."

"Good. Now, eat. We have much to discuss, and I want you to be comfortable."

I nodded and picked up my fork, cutting it into the perfectly cooked steak. The flavors were rich and decadent, each bite reminding me just how far removed this world was from my own. As I ate, Mateo watched me intently, his gaze never wavering. It was as if he was assessing every move I made, every expression that crossed my face .

Even when he ate his own food, his attention remained fixed on me. Unnerving was an understatement.

"I've noticed something about you, anjinho," he said, breaking the silence.

I swallowed my bite of food and reached for the cloth napkin. "Noticed what about me?" I asked, dabbing at my lips.

"You respond better when told what to do."

"What?" I blurted out, caught off guard.

"You'll see," he replied smoothly, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I think we should get to why we're really here."

"I agree," I replied, my curiosity and apprehension mingling.

Mateo leaned back, his gaze piercing. "I need a wife, and you want to know where your sister is. You help me, and I will do everything in my power to help you."

I stared at him, the weight of his words slowly sinking in .

The temperature seemed to drop, and the sounds of the rooftop faded into the background as his words sank in. "You need a wife? Surely you don't mean me."

"I do mean you. Forgive me, I misspoke. Elena, you will be my wife," he declared with an air of finality.

My mind raced as I tried to process this unexpected turn of events. This was not what I had imagined would happen. The weight of the situation bore down on me. The only thing keeping me anchored was the promise of finding Eva, but at what cost? Marrying Mateo meant becoming entangled in a world I had always fought against, one dominated by power and darkness.

Was it truly possible for me to do that? Could I actually marry Mateo in order to find my sister? The decision felt daunting, but as his penetrating gaze locked onto mine, I realized I may not have a choice in the matter .

His level of authority and power made it clear that this was not a mere suggestion, but rather a demand disguised as a proposal.